


Where Rainbows End

by lazarus_girl



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarus_girl/pseuds/lazarus_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brittany and Santana have a long-standing love affair with <i>Breakfast at Tiffany’s</i> and maybe they’re just a little in love with each other too.</p><p>
  <i>“People say magic doesn’t exist, but they’re wrong.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Rainbows End

**Author's Note:**

> Pre S1. Basically, this is my headcanon for pre-show Brittana, a little ode to 'Moon River.' _Breakfast at Tiffany’s,_ and all things Audrey Hepburn rolled into one. Indulge me.The closest I’ll ever get to writing anything like fluff. Call this an early Christmas/Winterval present to all the Brittana lovers out there. Thank you, as ever, to the lovely[cargoes](http://cargoes.tumblr.com) for her beta skills and cheerleading. This one has been back and forth between us in various forms for the last couple of months. I originally envisaged it as part of a larger piece, where the girls watch the movie together over the years, but nothing I wrote later held up to what I wrote initially. Instead of consigning the whole thing to the trash bin – I was sorely tempted! – I decided to share this ‘movie moment’ as a standalone story.

***

 _“The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes,_  
 _because that is the doorway to her heart,_  
 _the place where love resides.”_  
– Audrey Hepburn.

***

Sunday afternoon. Ice cream. Living room. _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_. Come rain or shine – though it’s better when it rains, it adds to the atmosphere – that’s what happens. It’s been that way for as long as they can remember. They just watch together now, instead of huddled up with Brittany’s mom on the couch like when they were little, transfixed by Audrey and the city and everything in between. They still huddle though, even when it’s not that cold. Brittany just has this comfortable spot on her shoulder and Santana’s head fits there just right, because she grew a couple of inches over the summer and now they aren’t the same height anymore.

They’re kind of old for it now, and if anyone else saw them, mouthing along, word for word, Santana playing Audrey Hepburn to Brittany’s George Peppard (and a guest spot from Lord Tubbington at all the right points, Santana would die of embarrassment (even though she doesn’t run around in Brittany’s dad’s coat anymore). They’re starting at McKinley High in the fall, and people – her abuela, her father – keep telling her that she has to grow up and act responsibly, but something happens when she gets near Brittany – she just gets coaxed into things she wouldn’t ordinarily do. Things like acting out Audrey Hepburn movies sitting in her pyjamas (borrowed from Brittany, so they’re too long in the legs now, but she puts them on anyway), and wearing her glasses instead of her contacts because Brittany doesn’t care and never calls her names like some kids at school.

Brittany’s idly braiding Santana’s hair when ‘Moon River’ swells on the soundtrack. Her head is in Brittany’s lap, where it’s been ever since she got up to switch their tub of strawberry for mint chocolate chip, even though it’s not Brittany’s favourite. While Brittany was away, Santana had just curled herself on the couch, overtired from dance classes and the fact they stayed up talking until two in the morning (Brittany’s dad came in and whisper-yelled at them to go to sleep).

Soon, they won’t do sleepovers anymore.

Anticipating what’s to come, Brittany’s hands still, because Audrey – Holly – is going to go out on the balcony with her guitar and sing.

“Oh, I love this part!” Brittany declares, for the umpteenth time.

“Me too, Britt-Britt,” Santana replies, and even though she can’t see, Brittany knows Santana is smiling. She sits up again and snuggles close, like she always does when it gets to the big moments. “Audrey’s so fricken classy,” she murmurs, eyes trained on the screen.

Except, it’s not just Audrey that will sing, and that’s why Brittany’s almost always tempted to skip right to this part whenever they watch. For a while now – since they were twelve or so – Santana’s started to sing along. It’s different to when they sing with Brittany’s cousins on their karaoke machine or even when they do it in the car after everyone else has been dropped off when it’s her mom’s turn to car pool. It’s the prettiest thing Brittany’s ever heard, even prettier than Audrey, but there’s something so sad about it too that makes it even more beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes Brittany’s chest ache and that’s really hard to put into words whenever she thinks of trying to talk about it.

The idea of kissing Santana has been lingering in her mind.

She’s curious and it’s getting harder to ignore. Santana looks different, somehow. Brittany’s seen her every day for years now – apart from when they’re on vacation – and she doesn’t know when it happened, but the photos in her mom’s album show it. Really, she thinks the change happened when she really started looking at her differently. When she really _saw_ her. Santana’s not _just_ a girl anymore. She’s a pretty girl. She’s a pretty girl that Brittany can’t stop wanting to be next to and look at in a way that’s not like any other friend she’s ever had.

Santana never joins in on the singing right away. Her voice is always so soft and shy; like she’s afraid of letting the notes out because they’re trapped in some special space in her body and once they’ve escaped, she won’t know how to put them all back like they were before. That’s how Brittany feels right now, watching Santana’s profile as she sings: her pretty, pretty nose; the curve of her mouth, still smiling; her long, long lashes fluttering against her face every time she blinks; the blush creeping into her cheeks because she knows she’s being watched.

If she looks at Santana for one second longer, she’ll just _die_. Her heart feels like it’s going to come flying right out of her mouth any second. She’s not breathing in the breathing in the same way as before either, like her lungs suddenly got really small.

_“Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker. Wherever you're going, I'm going your way.”_

She can’t take it anymore. She _has_ to know. Before she can change her mind, Brittany surges forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of Santana’s mouth, pulling away from her just as quickly.

Santana stops singing, leaning away from her, stunned. Brittany thinks she just made a _really_ big mistake, and she’s actually as stupid as Noah Puckerman and everyone else says.

“But, Britt,” Santana stumbles over her words, almost stuttering like Tina Cohen-Chang does. “They, they don’t … kiss,” the way she says ‘kiss’ is the quietest Brittany’s ever heard her speak, “… until the end.”

“I – I just, really wanted to kiss you,” Brittany replies, voice tiny, mouth dry.

It feels like she’s choking somehow.

For a few really long seconds, Santana doesn’t do or say anything at all. Silent and perfectly still. Brittany looks back at Audrey, feeling her cheeks burning hot with embarrassment. She wants to run away, but she can’t make herself move.

“I should go,” Brittany finds herself saying, even though she doesn’t really mean it.

“Don’t,” Santana pleads, reaching out and grabbing Brittany’s wrist when she tries to get up. “You can do it again … if you want.”

Santana’s talking in the same soft voice as before, like if she speaks any louder, Brittany will shatter. Maybe she will. Santana’s so close; Brittany can feel the warmth of Santana’s breath on her skin. Holly and Paul and Audrey and George are forgotten.

She searches Santana’s face, looking between her eyes and her lips and back again because she didn’t mean it, did she? She can’t have.

“Kiss me.”

Santana’s words are a whisper; so quiet that Brittany’s not sure if she imagined her saying them.

This isn’t like the movies. She doesn’t really know what to do, and there are suddenly a million different thoughts in her head all screaming out at once. What if they bump noses? What if they clash teeth? Should she take off Santana’s glasses because they’re super expensive and she’s afraid of breaking them? Should she close her eyes? Should she use tongue? Where do her hands go? Why doesn’t she know? Santana knows because she’s already kissed a lot of boys like Matt Rutherford and Mike Chang. Everyone else knows. Everyone but her.

“Don’t be scared, Britt-Britt,” Santana smiles, gently reaching to move a lock of hair that’s fallen into Brittany’s eyes. “I’ll show you. It’s easy,” she continues, holding Brittany’s face in her hands.

The second Santana’s lips press against Brittany’s, her eyes flutter closed. Holly and Paul, Audrey and George, and ‘Moon River’ are all forgotten. It doesn’t feel real at all. She’s frozen for a moment, hands curling into fists where they sit in her lap, unsure if she should reach out and touch Santana like she wants to. It’s not like that time she kind of kissed Noah Puckerman during seven minutes of heaven – it was more like seven seconds of hell – it’s a thousand times better, because this is really kissing instead of that weird, slobbery gross thing he did that he thought was kissing. She wants this to carry on for seven million years instead, and she knows _exactly_ what to do, all of a sudden. People say magic doesn’t exist, but they’re wrong. This is the best magic trick ever.

Santana’s lips are soft, so _very_ soft, and she’s being so cautious and careful as their lips brush together. Once, twice, three times, and then everything goes a little blurry. It’s making Brittany feel kind of dizzy, but in a _really_ good way. So they keep kissing, each one is longer than the last, and each time, she feels braver; hungry for more. She’s surprised when Santana opens her mouth a little wider, deepening the kiss. Brittany’s even more surprised when she slides her tongue right inside, stroking it experimentally, gently, against Santana’s own. Santana lets out a soft moan that Brittany’s never heard her make before. Ever.

All she wants to do is keep hearing it.

Her heart is pounding right out of her chest, and she can feel Santana’s shaking, just as nervous, just as afraid, but she doesn’t want to stop. If they stop, they might never start again. Brittany wants to keep kissing Santana forever, because she’s beautiful and perfect, and it feels like she should’ve been kissing Santana for her entire life.

As the rain batters down on the roof, all Brittany can think is they've just fast-forwarded to a very different ending.

_Two drifters, off to see the world_  
 _There's such a lot of world to see_  
 _We're after that same rainbow's end,_  
 _Waiting, round the bend …_


End file.
